


going, going, gone

by likebrightness



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Baseball, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 01:38:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6932626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebrightness/pseuds/likebrightness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke reminds herself that she can’t find an Orioles fan cute, orders another beer, and revels in the fact that the girl has to teach her brother how to score a solo home run from the Nats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	going, going, gone

**Author's Note:**

> For Megan.

Clarke loves baseball.

Jake took her to Nationals games all the time as a kid. She doesn’t go as often now that he’s gone, but she always catches a couple games a year. She shouts at the players and starts chants and doesn’t understand people who think the game is boring.

Clarke’s alone at the game today—it’s the Beltway Series, which was her dad’s favorite, so she has to go, and no one can make it with her, so she just goes alone. She doesn’t mind; baseball is great no matter what. But it does mean she doesn’t have anyone to complain to when the Orioles fan next to her yells “O!” during the national anthem. Clarke would say something, but the other girl is with some kid, a like ten year old boy, and Clarke isn’t going to mess up the experience for him.

Besides having to sit next to Orioles fans, it’s great. Clarke’s a couple beers in by the third inning, the Nats are up 1-0, and it’s a beautiful day. They’re in right field, close enough to see into the Nationals bullpen, which Clarke hopes will not be in use for a long time today.

The girl next to her is teaching the kid she’s with how to keep score. Clarke doesn’t want to think it’s cute, because they’re _O’s fans_ , but it really is. Clarke remembers her dad trying to teach her, but she was way too interested in virtually anything else at the stadium than the thing that looked suspiciously like math homework. But the kid wants to learn so badly, wants to please his older sister—Clarke thinks she’s his older sister, anyway; she looks around Clarke’s age, way too young to be the kid’s mom. The girl is patient and quiet, a huge contrast from when she’s shouting encouragement at her outfielders. Clarke reminds herself that she can’t find an Orioles fan cute, orders another beer, and revels in the fact that the girl has to teach her brother how to score a solo home run from the Nats.

Clarke is punished for her schadenfreude the next inning. Two men on and the next Oriole up launches the first pitch toward their seats. Off the bat, it’s clear it’s a home run. The girl and kid next to Clarke are on their feet. Clarke stares up at the ball in disgust. It lands a few rows above them, bounces off people’s hands and gloves and Clarke doesn’t even want it, but it ends up in her lap.

Her love for her team and 90% of the fans around her are telling her to throw it back. You don’t keep home run balls from the other team. But the kid next to her looks so fucking _thrilled_ and he’s going on to his sister about how _We almost had it! I should have stood on my seat!_ and Clarke is a Nationals fan, but she’s also a decent person.

She offers the ball to the kid.

He stares at it, stares up at her, and then looks at his sister.

“Really?” he says like she’s an angel.

“It’s yours,” Clarke says.

He takes it, and looks at her reverently.

“Aden,” the girl with him says.

He doesn’t need more reminder than that. “Thank you so much,” he says.

“No problem.”

Clarke goes back to watching the game, which her team is now _losing_ , and it’s not made better by the fact that she was a good person. She totally should have thrown the ball back.

Not only did she lose the satisfaction of tossing the ball back, now the Orioles fan next to her thinks it’s okay to talk to her.

“That was very kind,” the girl says. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Clarke shrugs. “He’d like it more than me.”

“Perhaps he will catch one for your team and give it to you.”

Clarke thinks she’s being made fun of—the girl is almost smirking, and Clarke wants to be offended, but _shit_ , she’s hot.

“Can I buy you a beer to say thank you and make you stop scowling because your team is losing?”

Clarke is _definitely_ being made fun of now. She stares at the girl for a minute, then says, “You can buy me a beer, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop scowling.”

It makes the girl laugh, and Clarke immediately reneges on what she said, a smile breaking over her face without her permission.  

Clarke goes back to pouting a little, though, even as the girl— _Lexa_ —does buy her the beer. The O’s score another run, and Lexa and the kid celebrate, and Clarke drinks.

Her dad always made friends with everyone around them when they went to games. He made friends with everyone around them when they went anywhere. Not that Clarke is _making friends_ with an _O’s fan_. She’s just enjoying a pity beer, and maybe also enjoying the way Lexa smiles more with her eyes than her mouth.

Aden—who Lexa introduced as “my friend”, not her sibling—asks Clarke to explain a double switch. Lexa makes a face when he asks, and good, Clarke thinks, she doesn’t like the National League; Clarke could never be interested in someone who doesn’t like the National League.

When Clarke is done explaining, Lexa says, “I don’t understand why both leagues don’t play by the same rules. There are benefits of a designated hitter, yes—” This is what Clarke was waiting for, and she’s ready to fight, but Lexa continues, “But the strategy and small ball of the National League are so much more interesting.”

Clarke closes her mouth.

“Do you not agree, Clarke?” Lexa says.

“I—” Clarke says. “You’re a fan of an American League team?”

“Yes, because Baltimore is our hometown,” Lexa says. “But the National League plays a much more interesting game.”

Clarke _cannot_ be into an Orioles fan.

-

At the seventh inning stretch, it becomes clear that Clarke definitely is into an Orioles fan.

Lexa is unbearably enthusiastic. She and Aden sing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” louder than anyone in their section. They rock back and forth as they sing, and when Lexa’s shoulder bumps Clarke’s, she gives her a little smile of apology, and Clarke melts.

Clarke spends the rest of the game trying to get Lexa to smile again, fairly successfully. Lexa smiles when Clarke buys Aden cotton candy. She smiles when Clarke gives an impassioned speech about how there’s not even a point of managers in the American League; with so much less strategy involved, they’re just glorified pitching coaches. Lexa smiles when the Orioles win and Clarke pouts.

“This is not the end, Clarke,” Lexa says, her voice cracking around the K. “You can split the series if you win tomorrow.”

Clarke rolls her eyes at this ridiculous girl, and at herself for being so charmed, but she takes the opening Lexa gives her.

“Are you guys coming tomorrow?”

“Gus is taking me to the aquarium tomorrow!” Aden says as they climb the steps toward the concourse.

“The aquarium is awesome,” Clarke says, trying not to sound let down. “You’ll have a good time.”

They stop so Aden can use the bathroom before they leave, Clarke and Lexa standing to the side to wait for him as people file toward the exits.

“I am not joining Aden and Gustus at the aquarium tomorrow,” Lexa says quietly.

Clarke perks up. “No?”

“I do not have a ticket to tomorrow’s game, but perhaps—”

“Take my number,” Clarke says. “Maybe we can find a couple seats together.”

Lexa smiles. “I’d like that.”

Their fingers brush as they exchange phones to program their numbers into. Aden returns, babbling about the aquarium, doesn’t notice the flush on Clarke and Lexa’s cheeks.

They stop outside the gates. Clarke’s taking the train, and Lexa is parked in the other direction.

“It was nice to meet you, Clarke,” Lexa says. “I’m sorry your team did not win.”

She says it with a little smirk and Clarke finds she doesn’t care about her team losing nearly as much as she usually does.

 


End file.
